


Promises

by SamJoinedtheReconCorps



Category: Fantastic Four, Fantastic Four (2015)
Genre: Feels, I'm Sorry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-13 18:38:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4532913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamJoinedtheReconCorps/pseuds/SamJoinedtheReconCorps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The relationship Ben and Reed share is deeper, much more than just the "best friends" that everyone sees, even if they don't even realize it themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Promises

**Author's Note:**

> So I just watched Fantastic 4 like a few hours ago and well shit I didn't know I'd ship Reed/Ben so fucking hard but here I am and I need more fic for them so I wrote something I'm so sorry I hope you guys like it

                He couldn’t move – he could barely breathe. Every breath just felt wrong, harsher, much more guttural. He tried again; a shift in the rubble, an attempt to pull his legs free – no use. The panic came in bouts and swoops – at times, it’d get to be too much, it’d suffocate him, it’d make him feel like he was drowning in stone, stone that suddenly felt very much _alive_. Then, he’d try to calm down, to clear his head, just like when he was in grade school and Ben would get frustrated that things weren’t going the way he wanted them to. Just the way Reed taught him to.

                _Reed._

                The name brought him up short, causing him to cease his struggling. _Reed,_ the name burned through him again, reminding him of his best friend. Then a second thought: _Was he even alive?_

                “Reed!” he bellowed, trying to be heard above the eerie silence that seemed to permeate where he was being kept. “Reed!” he screamed louder. He stopped for a second, trying to see if he could hear anything.

                “ _Ben_.”

                It was only a whisper, a weak, broken whisper, but it was there – whether Ben was imagining it or not was not of Ben’s concern at the moment, he just knew that _Reed was there_.

                “Reed!” he tried again, and in a sudden fit of panic, “Help me!” Suddenly, the panic became too great, and he fell into his usual routine of frenzied struggling, only this time, he was also screaming out to Reed, wherever Reed was.

                 Seconds of struggling turned into minutes, which seemed to drag on towards eternity, but Ben didn’t seem to notice, all he thought of was trying to break free, trying to get away, trying to _get to Reed._

                 “Oh my God.”

                 Ben froze. He recognized that voice. It was the voice that had greeted him when he’d gone out to confront the intruder all those years ago at the scrap yard. It was the voice that had coaxed him into a friendship that he knew had bound both of them with jokes and work and endless hours together. It was the voice that comforted him in his times of need, the voice that was always there, no matter what. It was the voice that made stupid jokes in the dead of night, even if only an exasperated eye roll met them in turn. It was the voice of his best friend, the light to his dark.

                But it was off. Horribly off. Reed sounded… _terrified._

                Looking up, Ben could barely make out Reed through the air vent grate, looking down at him with wide eyes. Ben reached up towards him on instinct and felt his heart stop when Reed flinched. “Reed,” he began, on the verge of tears, “Reed, what did they do to me?”

                Reed seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts, his previous expression of terror being replaced by one of anxiety and something Ben couldn’t quite place. “Ben, Ben, buddy,” Reed began frantically, trying to calm him down. “I’m going to get you out of here,” he assured, hands already on the grate as if to try to pry it off. “Ben, just hang in there, I’m here.”

                Just hearing Reed’s voice calmed him down, his previous fear and panic slowly subsiding. “Reed –“ Ben began, but was cut off by a blaring siren.

                “ _Subject 1 out of containment. Subject 1 out of containment.”_

               Reed looked down at Ben, expression now laced with panic, his eyes wide once more. “Ben…” he started, but was stopped by another peal of the siren. The sound of pounding feet from what could only be heavily armed men was heard not far from where they were.

               Ben could read the look on Reed’s face even when it was masked by the shadow of the vent. “Reed, _don’t_ ,” Ben breathed.

               He shook his head almost violently, in an attempt to shake away tears that had started to fall from his eyes. “Ben, I-I have to – “ he met Ben’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

               “No, no, no – _no, Reed, come back_ ,” Ben called after him, seeing him start to crawl away from the grate.

               Stopping for only one last second, Reed made sure to look Ben straight on. “I promise I’ll come back for you. I’ll get you out,” he swore, his promise bright in his eyes, his tears all but sealing the deal.

                “ _Reed, no!_ ” Ben screamed, voice raw and almost animalistic in intensity. But Reed was already gone. “ _Don’t leave me…_ ” Ben whispered, eyes never leaving the ceiling, focusing on Reed’s tears that still clung to the grate of the vent.

* * *

                It was hard, at first, the killing. It had taken weeks for him to be deemed “safe” around others, and even more until he was “trained” to be out in the field. But, you can’t train someone for what he was meant to do. You can’t train anyone to kill. Not really.

                The way the light left men’s eyes, the way you could see the hope die on their face, the slouch of their cooling bodies, the snap of their breaking bones. The blood, oh God, the _blood._

                His first job had left him incoherent and violent for days. He hadn’t been able to cope with the guilt of what he’d done. He _“didn’t have a soldier’s heart, that one.”_ A soldier’s build, yes. But the heart: no. However, it turns out weapons don’t even need hearts.

* * *

               Ben found himself constantly running the last of his memories of Reed through his mind: _“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll come back for you. I’ll get you out.”_ Always the same three sentences, on loop, playing endlessly in his head to try to get him through the night.

_“I’m sorry.”_

               A lamentation for what had happened, a sorrow expressed through two words. An odd comfort that what had become of Ben made his friend feel _something._

_“I promise I’ll come back for you.”_

               The promise that kept him going, the promise that _no, Reed hadn’t abandoned him,_ that he _would_ be back.

_“I’ll get you out.”_

              One final reassurance, one last moment of comfort, a few more syllables meant to ground Ben in the hell that had become his life.

              The months dragged on, and still Ben had faith that Reed would return.

* * *

             The words that once brought him sweet comfort now seemed like a bitter taunt in his head.  

_“I’m sorry. I promise I’ll come back for you. I’ll get you out.”_

             The last two sentences had blurred in his mind despite how he’d branded them to his heart. He couldn’t remember the comfort those words once brought, and could only remember the words that tore at what little humanity he still clung to.

_“I’m sorry.”_

             Sorry Ben had been there, sorry Ben was more weapon than person, sorry Ben had become a _monster._ Yeah, Reed was sorry. So sorry he didn’t even stick around.

* * *

            It tore him apart, watching the news. They’d taken to calling him _The Thing_.

            Reed stared in horror at the tiny little TV propped behind the counter of the little produce shop he frequented in Panama. The cashier stared at him quizzically, grabbing the money in Reed’s outstretched hand and glanced behind him to see the TV playing snippets of the latest shots of “ _The Thing’s”_ latest rampage.

            “ _Los monstruos que tienen para las guerras,”_ the man commented quietly.

_The monsters they have for wars._

           Despite his limited Spanish, Reed understood that sentence far too much to his liking.

           He forced a small nod. “ _Si,_ ” he responded, snatching up the small bag of food he’d bought from the counter, feeling suddenly hot and itchy, as if he were drowning in sand.

           Running out of the shop, Reed reminded himself of the promise he’d made Ben. He thought of the words he’d told his best friend all those months ago, hoping that he wasn’t too late, and he tried his best to forget Ben’s broken reply that had somehow echoed through the vents and haunted him for months.

_“Don’t leave me.”_

          Reed shook his head, willing himself to keep focused on what he had to do.

_Don’t worry, buddy. I’m coming for you._

* * *

                The alarm started ringing seconds before the planes showed up. Reed had only had seconds to run for cover in the trees as armed men were lowered to the ground in an attempt to capture him. It’d been relatively easy to outmaneuver and disable the soldiers they’d set on him, but then heavy footsteps immediately made him retract his limbs to their regular length.

                He knew that gait. Despite it being much heavier than what he remembered, he knew that walk, he’d once walked right beside it – hell, he’d walked beside it his _entire life_.

                Reed turned slowly, seeing Ben coming to stand right in front of him. There seemed to be a brief second in which time seemed to suspend itself. It was only Reed and Ben, seemingly sizing each other up, but mostly trying to read the other, a talent that came naturally to both of them. Unspoken questions were fired back and forth, some receiving answers, others still shrouded in darkness.

                _What have they done to you? Did they hurt you? Your eyes weren’t as dark the last time I saw you. God, the last time I saw you -_

_Why did you leave? Where have you been? You haven’t been getting enough sleep, or eating enough. Just look at those dark circles beneath your eyes. Besides, you hate not being clean shaven. You feel like it looks sloppy. What have you been doing that you had to leave me?_

_I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner, I’m sorry you had to come look for me, I’m so sorry you had to go through this. I’m sorry you think you’re a monster._

_I am a monster, Reed. Look at me, look at what they’ve made me. Look at what you let them make me. You left me._

_I’m sorry._

_I hate myself._

_I love you._

There was a flash of emotion that lit up Ben’s eyes, making them almost look the way they once had, the way they’d been before they’d taken advantage of his newfound strengths. Then, they were fighting, Ben throwing punches, and Reed deftly avoiding them. And then, there was darkness.

* * *

                “Does it…does it hurt,” Reed asked quietly.

                “I’m used to it,” Ben responded curtly, looking intently at the wall ahead of him.

                Reed winced, his heart breaking at the hopelessness in his response. At the way his response had answered the question, at the way the unanswered _yes_ echoed around Reed’s skull. Reed’s heart tore at the thought that Ben had had to cope with the pain without Reed’s help. “I’m sorry, Ben,” Reed whispered from his small glass prison on the side of the carrier.

                Ben hardly even turned to look at him.

                Reed looked down at his hands. “You-you were my best friend, Ben. I promise I’m going to help you.”

                There was a harsh sound of stone on stone as Ben swiftly glanced at Reed, ensuring there was eye contact. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned through all of this,” he began, “it’s that we’re not friends.”

                It would have hurt much less if Reed had taken a rusty knife and carved his own heart out. The silence that lapsed between them was louder than anything either had ever heard.

* * *

                The healing process had been long and hard. Reed would try to reach out, but Ben would pull back behind his barriers, not ready to be left behind again.

                Even after Doom, and becoming the Fantastic 4, even after all of that, Ben still didn’t completely trust Reed. It would take much more than a few steps in the right direction before either of them were okay again.

                So Reed tried harder. He would do everything he could to get Ben back to normal, to help Ben get his body back, to help Ben try to convince himself he wasn’t a monster. He was going to live up to the promises he’d made. And Ben did everything he could to try and help Reed, to be the encouraging force that had been by Reed’s side since they were young. Together, they knew they’d find a cure. Together, they were going to find the solution.

                Together was all they really needed.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked it, thanks for reading! I know I might come back and edit this to get their dialogue right and I know I definitely want to come and write more Reed/Ben, but we'll see.


End file.
